


precious minerals

by cecropia



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Healthy Communication, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot, bc that’s all I write, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22742299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecropia/pseuds/cecropia
Summary: “What are you gonna do?” Evan asks through giggles, and Connor drops his forehead onto Evan’s shoulder. “You gonna— gonna punch my brain?”
Relationships: Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 207





	precious minerals

**Author's Note:**

> wow look a one shot that’s not named after a song!! :0 who am I 
> 
> man I went to therapy for the first time in A MINUTE and it has helped my brain so much. If y’all have been skipping out on therapy take this as a sign to go again ok?
> 
> love u guys, hope ur well!! thanks for reading <333

Connor Murphy’s brain works in a way that Evan’s doesn’t fully understand.

Actually, scratch that. Evan doesn’t get it  _ at all _ . 

Evan’s all worries and polarities and overthinkings, turning things over in his mind so many times that they turn into something completely different than they were at the start, like precious minerals in a tumbler; starting and stopping and flipping and questioning and then starting over again until said worry is almost indecipherable, it’s so insane and far-fetched and muddled that when he actually manages to take a step back and examine it, he wonders how he even got to that point in the first place. But that doesn’t stop the process from repeating itself, no— just a simple thought is almost always able to peck away at his mind until he’s curled into a ball on the floor, shaking his head to try and clear it because he’s convincing himself that he’s dying, the world is  _ ending _ , and that everything is  _ bad _ and  _ wrong _ and it’s happening  _ now  _ and he has to do something  _ now _ but he doesn’t know what the hell to  _ do _ . 

As it turns out, voicing these concerns to Connor in the moment is about the best decision Evan’s ever made. 

“I’m just— I’m so worried that I’m a bad person, you know? Like— fuck, what if I only help people so I can feel good about it? So I can feel like I’m worth something? Isn’t that just  _ selfish _ ?”

Evan’s pacing around their shared bedroom, waving his arms around in wild gestures as Connor’s relaxed in the middle of their bed, laying on his stomach, chin propped up on a hand, just watching. 

“And— and last night my mom was calling me and— and sometimes I just don’t wanna talk to her, like, sometimes it’s just— it’s just a lot for me, because I know she’s gonna ask about school and I know she’s gonna ask if I’m okay on money and meds and I know she’s not gonna believe me, and, like, I feel so bad because I know all she wants to do is talk to her son, who never calls her and barely ever comes home, and here I am, purposefully ignoring her because my stupid fucking brain can’t handle it.”

Evan glances over at Connor and he’s got his eyes trained on him as he paces the room, nodding once for Evan to continue. 

“And so I must be a bad person, I  _ must _ be, because what kind of person just ignores their mom like that? And— and what kind of person does volunteer work not for the purpose of helping, but— but to feel less worthless? Connor, I’m— I’m  _ shit _ . I go to class and I come home and I do my homework but sometimes I ignore you because my brain needs a minute and I feel so bad, and I’m such a bad boyfriend and I don’t even know why you’re with me. Because— because why would you want to be with such a  _ bad fucking person _ ?”

Evan’s breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, looking at Connor for some sort of response. Some reaction. Anything. 

For a second, all Evan hears is his breathing.

Or, like. The fact that he’s struggling to breathe. His lack of breathing. Gasping. 

“...So what if you’re a bad person?” Connor asks after a moment of contemplation, tilting his head to the side. 

“I… what?” Evan asks, turning to Connor, bewilderment very apparent on his face. He’s sure he looks fucking insane, eyes wild and mouth hanging open. 

“So what?” Connor asks again, calm. “Like… what happens? If you’re really just, like. Downright a  _ bad person _ . What happens after that?”

“I…” Evan’s pacing slows. 

“Like, you don’t believe in hell, right?”

Evan shakes his head. Struggles to see how that’s relevant. “No, but…”

“But what?” Connor looks at him. Looks through him. “Say the only opinion that matters is yours. What happens if you’re a bad person?”

Evan stops to think. “I… I would hate myself.”

“Why?” 

Evan scoffs. “Because… because that would mean that I’m not doing what I need to to… to be a good person.”

“But,” Connor pushes him, shifting so that he’s supporting himself with both elbows. “Wanting to be good… doesn’t that  _ make _ you good?”

“Um… I mean, I guess...?”

Evan stops, back facing Connor. 

“Actually, no. It. It doesn’t.”

“Okay,” Connor says softly, “Then what does?”

“It’s—“ Evan cuts himself off, groaning in frustration. The pacing starts up again. “You have to prove it. You have to  _ prove _ you’re a good person. You have to— to put in the work. And you have to do good things and be good to people. You have to  _ try _ , not just  _ want _ .”

It’s quiet. 

Evan turns to face Connor again. 

Connor just quirks an eyebrow at him, completely stone faced. 

“What?” Evan asks, desperate. 

There’s something he’s supposed to be getting. 

Connor rolls over onto his side, facing him. “Think about it for a sec.”

“About…?”

“What you just said.”

So Evan does. 

He thinks about it. 

And then his face turns red. 

Because…  _ oh _ . 

“I… I don’t…”

He averts his eyes. They’re locked on to the shitty, stained carpet of their apartment. He shakes his head. 

“Evan,” Connor says, and Evan looks up at him. Weirdly, Evan’s on the verge of tears. Connor waves him over. “C’mere.”

And so Evan goes, he takes the walk of shame over to their bed, flopping down next to Connor and rolling into his arms. 

His eyes are leaking onto Connor’s shirt. Evan sniffs weakly. 

“What I’m trying to say is… you’re, like, the farthest from a bad person.” Evan smiles, wrapping his arms around Connor’s skinny waist. “And your brain is fucking stupid, and it’s telling you shit that isn’t true.”

“Okay,” Evan mumbles, although he’s still not sure he believes it. 

Connor tugs him closer, spreads his hands across Evan’s back and nuzzles into Evan’s neck. “According to your own qualifications… wanting  _ and _ trying to be a good person… you are one. You said it yourself.”

Evan sighs. “Yeah, but…”

Connor doesn’t interrupt him. 

“If… if I admit that I’m not a bad person… like, out  _ loud _ , it— it feels like… like I  _ am _ one. Does that make sense?”

Connor hums thoughtfully. 

“No,” He says simply into the crook of Evan’s neck. 

Evan feels him smile. 

“You’re not bad for admitting that you’re good. It’s not like… like you’re, fuckin’... shouting it to the world or some shit. You’re not doing it to get attention, I know that. So. Tell your brain that that’s bullshit. Tell it to shut the fuck up.”

Evan winds both hands into the back of Connor’s shirt. “Okay, I will.”

Connor waits a second. 

“You didn’t tell it.”

All of the air in Evan’s lungs whooshes out in a breathy laugh. “Yes, I. Yes I did.”

“You didn’t.”

He didn’t. 

“No, I—“ Evan’s laughing now. “I  _ did _ , I—“

Connor’s breath tickles Evan’s ear as he leans in close. 

“Hey, motherfucker.”

“Connor,” Evan snorts. He cringes away from the sudden warmth, but Connor follows. He pulls Evan closer, holding him like he’s precious. 

A precious mineral. Something to be treasured. 

“Hey,” He laughs into Evan’s ear. “Hey, dumbass. Stop making Evan feel like shit.” And then he presses a kiss to the side of Evan’s face, an aggressive peck with a laugh at the end, “Don’t make me threaten you.”

“What are you gonna do?” Evan asks through giggles, and Connor drops his forehead onto Evan’s shoulder. “You gonna— gonna punch my brain?”

“Yeah,” Connor laughs, “Yeah, I am.” He’s close to Evan’s ear again. “You hear that, bitch? Better watch out. Think of that the next time you decide to fuck with him.”

Connor leans back with the most shit-eating, pleased, frog-like smile Evan’s ever seen in his life, and then Evan’s wrapping his arms around Connor’s neck and he just  _ has _ to kiss that look off of his face, he has to, he has no choice, because who the hell else would go through all that effort to make sure Evan’s okay? And who else would whisper into Evan’s ear to tell his brain to shut the fuck up? Who else would do that? For  _ Evan _ ? For Evan, who does shitty things and who’s probably just a shitty fucking—

Except, no. He’s not. Evan’s not a bad person. He’s done bad things, sure, but everyone has. He makes mistakes, but who says that those outweigh all of the good things?

Evan’s brain isn’t fixed automatically, although Connor’s lips on his don’t hinder it whatsoever. It helps, as weird as it is, to know that someone cares about him this much. And that he’s got someone he can be weird with, someone who’s just as weird (if not weirder) than him. Someone whose brain works almost completely the opposite of the way Evan’s does, and yet all that it does is balance them both out. Makes them both complete, in a way. Like there was something missing before, some emptiness, some hole in Evan’s heart that he wasn’t sure would ever close up. 

Connor didn’t fill it, exactly. He didn’t close it. He just… gave Evan a needle and some thread. Pushed him to close it up himself. 

“You make me better,” Connor mumbles seriously against Evan’s lips. When Evan opens his eyes for a second, Connor’s eyebrows are pulled together. “A better person. I love you, idiot.”

He doesn’t. He’s sure he doesn’t. 

But he takes Connor’s advice. 

And, as he leans in to tell Connor he loves him more, more than Connor could ever imagine, he takes a second to tell his brain to  _ shut the fuck up. _

  
  
  



End file.
